There are certain traditions at church, both great and small (just like the “creatures”).

At my church, there has, however, been some variation in tradition over the years, one of them being the direction in which the choir in our divided chancel is to look while singing the Doxology (“Praise God from whom all blessings flow”). One choir director had us face the altar; while others have seemed to prefer that we direct our “singing gaze” to the opposite choir pews in that split-chancel area, or toward the congregation.
In the past, before dwindling choir and congregation numbers, there were others across the way (my late wife, Diane included) to whom we could direct that gaze, although we were technically addressing God, not them. Since we now mostly see just the organ pipes across the way, some seem to just pick a pipe and sing.

It strikes me that tradition is like the inflexible bone within the more flexible flesh.

We’ve had some experimentation at my church with the “Host” over the years, ranging from small bread cubes to something resembling “Oysterettes” and “Wheat Thins.” Being raised at Saint Paul’s Lutheran, I was of course familiar with the Communion Wafer, with its impressed religious symbols. Refreshing my memory, I googled “Pictures of Holy Wafers,” and came up with pictures of them stamped with a variety of crosses, and a Paschal Lamb. Below those pictures was the statement: “This website uses ‘cookies’ to enhance your experience” (I guess something of the same sort might be said about Communion).

One substitute minister, unfamiliar with a certain, semi-hazardous tape-marked altar step, almost lost his footing while holding a whole tray of the tiny Communion glasses, but caught himself, saving quite a racket on the stone parquet floor. I sometimes call those little Communion glasses “shot glasses,” and whenever I do, always reminding myself, paraphrasing one of the editors of the New York Sun on Sept. 21st, 1897 with, “Yes Mack, there is a hell!”

Our current supply minister gingerly pours the un-fermented wine very carefully into the chalice; but we had one minister who alternately raised and lowered the decanter while pouring, creating a high stream from above (perhaps the desired effect). In the midst of such “experimentation,” one is tense enough about remembering his sins, without worrying about “fancy pouring shenanigans” leading to the possibility of the Blood of Christ being wasted (although sadly, on of some of us, it is).

At another Danville church, I assisted in the stripping of the altar for Good Friday. Their Sacramental decanter every bit resembled a very large, silver coffee decanter, leading me to say I had assisted with the “Holy Espresso.” The one at my church resembles a silver beer stein (time for the self-reminder again: “Yes, Mack, there is a hell”).

Recently, during my church’s Communion tradition, something un-traditional happened (more like a slip up, instead of something “new wave”). Basically, the elder who traditionally brings the Body and the Blood to the choir, brought the Body, but un-traditionally forgot to bring the tray containing the filled “shot glasses” (once again: “Yes Mack…”).

After Communion, and while re-assembled in front of the altar, a great cry went up amongst the elders (well, a “great murmur” signifying “some people were left out”). The forgetful elder then sheepishly (seeming so to me) administered to the choir that very recently overlooked “Blood of Christ, shed for thee.”

I then thought how very fitting it would be if the closing hymn were “Pass Me Not O Gentle Savior,” but it wasn’t.